


When the Brooklyn Boys Begin

by fullarmorandahotfudgesundae



Series: Hot Time in the Town of Berlin [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: "It's Complicated" Bruce Banner, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Clint Barton, Beta Pepper Potts, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), F/M, Genre Typical Non-Con Hinted, Getting Our Boys Back Together Earlier, Handwavy Science, M/M, Omega Natasha Romanov, Omega Steve Rogers, Seriously What is Canon?, Soul Bond, Thanks Hydra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullarmorandahotfudgesundae/pseuds/fullarmorandahotfudgesundae
Summary: Steve just wanted to die in peace. An Omega without children, whocouldn'thave children, living for long after their Alpha was torn from them?Not happening, not even with modern medicine.So, having accepted his fate, why was he suddenly haunted by a hallucination of his dead Alpha? A really firm, tactile, weepy hallucination of his dead Alpha?Maybe he should just roll with it?(Bucky, for his part, just wants to know what the hell is going on and how he and his punk Omega managed to be alive in the twenty-first century.  Oh, and also how to stop that little issue of the bond sickness killing his Stevie.)





	1. When the Yanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As opposed to ‘traditional’ (if that’s even the right term) A/B/O interactions of dubious consent, I’m more interested in the Romantic (and therefore fantastical), so rather than base instincts, my focus is on the typical human failings when society is forced to deal with three distinct secondary gender dynamics and the bonds that form from them. As opposed to our real world failings when dealing with gender issues, but that’s a soapbox for another time. As tagged, there are only the genre-implied non-consensual issues; nothing of that sort is explicit and only vaguely implicit (blame Hydra) in what follows.
> 
> This owes a great debt to Odsbodkins [The Ties That Bind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073725) and all of the great A/B/O or Steve/Bucky fics where their bond, romantic, friendly, whatever, is inviolable.

“Oh Jesus _Christ_ ,” came a low groan from the doorway, “it’s true.” 

Steve shuddered, spooked that he hadn’t heard anyone coming, not that he wasn’t a little distracted with the whole dying thing or anything. 

He writhed against the bed, another wave of knives and ice and pain taking him, but he tried to peer through the haze at the intruder. 

He couldn’t make anything out; his vision was too fogged with tears from the incessant pain. He could make out a vague man-shaped blur sagged against the doorframe, but no details and he frankly couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Either it was a friend, ( _and no, there was no way it even could be who it sounded like, Steve, just get a grip and die with sanity if not dignity_ ), in which case he had gone to a lot of trouble to disappear for nothing. 

Or it was an enemy and they might shorten his current agony in a permanent fashion. He thought he might prefer that as he groaned against the feeling of shards of glass jabbing him all over. 

On the heels of his pathetic cry, the figure staggered forward. 

“Stevie, God, Steve.” The agonized moan sparked something under the pain, a need to make _that voice_ stop sounding like that. 

Steve couldn’t quite grasp what was going on. That part of him should be dead, _was_ dead, ever since that day in ’44. It had gone dark and cold. Going under the ice had felt like bliss after those few days of living a half-life. But now, unbelievably, a little whisper of light and warmth was there in the vacuum, that same vacuum that was in the process of killing him. 

Which was _impossible_ and really kind of terrifying for the sudden surge of hope he was desperately trying to ignore, however futile the effort was proving. 

He started hyperventilating, not understanding why he would be granted such a viciously sweet illusion here at the end. 

He knew he was dying; that was inevitable now. 

He was only thankful the serum had strained to keep him going through the fight with Loki and that he hadn’t let anyone down. That’s why he had retreated to this forgotten corner of the city after Thor had hauled his brother home and his erstwhile teammates drifted off to their own interests. Hopefully his demise, only discovered by SHIELD after the fact, would be quick, even if it wouldn’t be painless. 

Steve had known that going back after the fight would have only prolonged his agony. Fury would not want to lose his major symbol and PR ace-in-the-hole, and Steve could only imagine the nightmare that would follow with experimental medical procedures that could only end up doing more harm than good anyway. Nothing could save an unbred Omega after their Alpha died, not when the bond was ripped away as abruptly as his. 

Which was why he was panicking as the little bond-spark kept glowing. 

_It wasn’t possible._

A tentative, gentle touch on his arm seized the breath in his throat, stopping the horrific gasps for air that must have been coming from him. 

“Hey, buddy, I’m here, oh Jesus, Steve, I’m here. Breathe, damn it. C’mon, Steve, don’t cut out on me now, not now.” Helpless to do anything but follow that familiar string of worried prattle, Steve closed his eyes and took a breath, choking on the emotions swelling up. 

“That’s it, Steve. Good job, pal, take another, I’m right here, swear to God. I’m actually here, oh God, Steve,” his hallucination (it _had_ to be a hallucination) managed, sounding choked up himself. That phantom touch slid up and down his arm as Steve struggled to regulate his breath. The (oh God) so familiar murmur kept up with meaningless sounds that could have been from any point in his childhood. 

As Steve felt slightly more in control, of his breathing at least as the pain and heat were still washing over him in slightly lessened intensity, the hand that was stroking his arm, grounding him in touch, however illusory, stuttered slightly. 

“Hey, Steve, I’m gonna touch you now, skin to skin, ‘kay? I’m gonna hold your hand and I want you to look at me, ‘kay? Can you do that for me, Stevie?” 

That dear voice was full of forced calm and entreaty, but Steve shook his head, knowing that opening his eyes would make it all vanish. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been hearing and seeing vague impressions of his Alpha for the past few days, right before the fever really took hold. They had never lasted when he started paying attention. 

Apparently, he should have taken those as a warning he was headed off the deep end. 

“Steve. I mean it. I’m here and you’re here and God only knows how that happened and we’re gonna have a long talk, swear to all that’s holy, but Steve, you gotta look at me, ‘cause I’m not letting you go, pal. Told you at the start you were stuck with me, right? You’re not allowed to bunk out on me, not now, not when I just found you. I need you to look at me, doll, c’mon.” 

The hand on his arm tightened in warning. He tried to fight the command in the voice, shaking against every biological imperative for him to obey (and given that the other was a figment of his imagination, how messed up was that?), but he was too weakened by the bond sickness. His muscles went slack, well as much as they could with the nervous shudders that took him over as he nodded, whining an agreement when he couldn’t force words out. 

“That’s my boy. Count of three, I’m gonna hold your hand and you’re gonna look at me, right Steve? I promise you, it’s all real. I need you, Rogers, God knows I do, so you just open those beautiful blues for me. We’ll sort you out, you just gotta see I’m _here_.” The hand tightened again, shaking enough that Steve could feel it against his own shudders. 

“Here goes, ready? One.” The hand slid down from his upper arm to his elbow. 

“Two” had the weight move to his forearm. 

“Three.” And that familiar calloused appendage filled Steve’s, gripping desperately. Steve’s eyes flew open not even of his own volition as that little bond-spark suddenly flamed, sparking all of his already over-wrought nerves. His vision narrowed down to the dark-haired figure crouched next to his bed and met those familiar darkened eyes, filled with their own pain and incredulity. 

“Bucky!” 

Steve didn’t remember actually trying to talk. The name was ripped out of him even as the comforting warmth of the bond-flame settled deep in his very being. He convulsed with the force of it, still not believing it was possible. Bucky was dead. It was all Steve’s fault his Alpha was dead and Steve was finally paying the price. He blinked rapidly, trying to make the illusion vanish, but he still saw either a really good hallucination that happened to include physical touch or James Buchanan Barnes right in front of him. 

What the hell was going on? 

His –friend, protector, lover, soldier, Alpha- smiled back, a little shaky and with tears running down his face, but undeniably Bucky. “Hey, Steve.” 

“But...how? What...” he tried to force the words, but they weren’t coming. He reached out to the bond to get his confusion/amazement/wariness/joy through, but was instead swamped with a tidal wave of the same flaming agony that had been killing him slowly for days. He cried out, not understanding why he hurt if his Alpha was right there. 

Maybe he really was losing it. Nobody ever mentioned bond sickness including going insane, but then, what did he know? He was probably more than halfway ‘round the bend on a good day anyway. 

“Shh. You’ll be okay, please God, you’ll be okay.” 

Bucky (and Steve decided right then that it didn’t even matter what was true, he was just going to believe it was Bucky for however long he had left. It wasn’t like it would make a difference and he could at least have a few happy moments. Didn’t they always say crazy people were happier believing in their own worlds?), never letting go of his hand, rose up to sit on the bed and shifted him so Steve was cradled against his chest. The increased contact dulled the pain ever so slightly so he could at least focus on what Bucky was saying. 

“Plenty of time for explanations later, but we’ve gotta move, Stevie. I’m not exactly the safest person to be around right now, but there was no other way to get to you.” His unoccupied hand, feeling strangely heavy, brushed Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead, soothing him further. 

“Can you think of any place safe? Somewhere with defences where we can get you some help? ‘Cause I think we’re gonna need a doc, pal. I don’t know enough about bond sickness and I’m scared, Stevie. I can’t lose you.” The firm body behind him was shaking slightly, convincing Steve that his best friend was past scared and on to terrified, even if for some reason he couldn’t feel it through their bond. 

“Sta...” he coughed, trying again, “Stark T...tower. Safe there.” 

He knew Tony and Bruce had been heading back there together. Bruce would be a better bet than SHIELD and Tony had proven he would fiercely defend his friends. Saving the world together made them friends, right? It’s not like Steve had ever had a lot of experience with making them. 

Bucky made a sound suspiciously like he was stifling a laugh. “Yeah, Stevie, that would make you friends.” 

Oh. He must have been talking out loud. Huh. More evidence he was losing his mind. 

Bucky continued, “Can I take it that Stark Tower is that big phallic symb...hang on, _Stark_? God in Heaven, he actually bred? I shudder to think what a new generation must be like, but if you say so, that’s where we’re going.” 

Steve smiled and actually felt like laughing for the first time since he thawed. He managed a slight wheeze, especially as Bucky kept muttering, even as he picked Steve up and headed out the door of the sad little hole-in-the-wall motel room. 

“That explains the size of that thing then, if he’s a Stark, he’s obviously overcompensating. Jeez, the man could be less obvious, well, I guess not if he’s Howard’s get. Holy Mary, this world is fucking strange.” 

Bucky kept up his stream-of-consciousness, apparently remembering how he used to soothe Steve’s bouts of illness when they were kids. It also helped detract from the wracking pain that refused to let up, even nestled in his Alpha’s arms. And jeez, didn’t that bring back memories of Brooklyn and being sick or getting into scraps in alleys. 

They made their way out what was apparently an unwatched back door and headed out on the streets. Steve was worried for a moment about being spotted or noticed, a big guy carrying an even bigger guy was not un-noteworthy even in New York. But then he realized that one, there had been a big battle only a day ago with genuine aliens that had destroyed a major part of uptown so they were far from remarkable compared with that, and two, it was dark out. 

Bucky, who had fallen silent, seemed to be sticking to the shadows and navigating the streets with a wary easiness that Steve really should be paying attention to. He could only bring himself to cling to his Alpha’s shirt and nestle into the curve of his neck and greedily gulped in air tinted with pure Bucky scent. His hallucinations hadn’t been this strong before and to be honest, he was really past the point of caring if he was fever-dreaming and dying. 

He had Bucky, figure of imagination or not, and that made everything of the last month bearable.


	2. Go Marching In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's POV, given that Cap is a bit busy being passed out. 
> 
> Bucky was not having the worst day of his life, but it wasn't necessarily the best, either. Not that either of those statements said much, given his goddamn life. 
> 
> And that's before Stark 2.0 got involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp of Tony's POV [If you care to know ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429867)

Bucky (and God, how could he have ever not been himself? He was holding off the other guy with pure Barnes stubbornness and he couldn’t even...to even goddamn know himself again was a fucking miracle) had to admit he was completely freaking out. 

Steve, his amazing and strong Stevie, wasn’t getting better. He’d hoped his presence would at least help a bit, not that he’d afforded much thought to the obvious shock he’d put his best friend through, which Steve had in no way needed on top of the bond sickness so well done, Barnes. 

He heard that last loud and clear in Peg's voice, which, just what he needed was more voices in his scrambled brain.

But other than a constant, tiny, oh so tiny, flicker of warmth through the bond, that beautiful, wondrous connection, Steve was deteriorating, fast. 

This was worse than any of the times Steve had been sick as a kid, even that horrible winter with the pneumonia when they’d been kicked out of their apartment by their bigoted landlord. God, that had been terrifying, barely sixteen and trying to keep Steve warm, fed, and medicated; hold down his position at the grocer’s, and the docks, and the whole running-packages-for-disreputable-people-that-Steve-will-never-know-about; and find a new place all at once. He’d had to leave Steve all alone in the nearest church he could find that wasn’t segregated. It had still been cold, but at least it was out of the wind and slush. In the three days it took to find a sympathetic landlady, he had never known if he’d come back and find a barely breathing Steve or a corpse. 

Their current situation topped that one by spades. 

Of course, his inner monologue was currently running in circles from Oh-God-Steve’s-going-to-die-and-I-can’t-do-anything to Oh-God-I-killed-so-many-people to Oh-God-Steve’s-alive-and-how-in-the-seven-levels-of-hell-is-that-possible? which probably wasn’t helping the situation. Neither was Steve’s sweetly agonizing nuzzling against his throat in between waves of obviously intense pain, nor his occasional murmur that seemed to indicate he thought Bucky was a hallucination. 

Bucky was having some problems in the belief department himself, that he was really holding the love of his life again, but he forced his brain to cooperate and focus on manoeuvring them silently and swiftly through the deserted streets. With only a vague sense of where to go, picked up by his subconscious in his frantic search for Steve, he knew they were getting closer when the clean, but desolate streets gave way to the chaos of an abandoned battlefield. 

Passing by the corpse of what looked like the result of a mating between a Lovecraftian horror and something out of H.G Wells, Bucky shook his head and muttered down to a barely coherent Steve, “What in God’s name were you up to without me, huh, punk?” 

He didn’t get a response, not that he’d expected one. He’d caught some coverage of the NYC invasion during his frenzied trek across most of Europe and the Atlantic, just enough to both reassure him and spur him on. 

Hopefully, his sudden departure had enough of the element of surprise that his inevitable pursuers were still a few hours behind. He couldn’t guarantee that, however, and startled badly at an unexpected noise from an adjacent alley. Clutching Steve tighter and shifting his inert bulk enough to free a hand for a weapon, he melted back into the shadows and waited. 

After a five-minute stretch with nothing, but the sound of his pulse in his ears, Bucky relaxed slightly. Shifting Steve yet again, and making a mental note to either bulk up or tell his friend to lay off the chow, he continued the last few blocks to his destination. 

The structure before him was probably pretty imposing, when not re-enacting the aftermath of the Blitz. Bucky carefully picked his way through the rubble and detritus into what was probably a foyer when actually surrounded by viable walls. Noticing a bank of elevators, he decided there was no way those were working, not that he really had any idea where to aim for anyway. 

Setting Steve down carefully, he knelt next to his Omega, wincing at the fever flush across his otherwise excessively pale face and the continuous shakes that had gripped him for the past ten blocks or so. Bucky ran his hand through Steve’s hair and down his face, cupping his cheek. 

“Buddy, ya gotta hang in there a bit further. I need to know where to find your pals so we can get you fixed up.” Steve didn’t react, not even when Bucky shook him lightly. 

“Back away from Captain America and keep your hands in front of you,” came a sharp voice from nowhere, startling Bucky enough that he jumped and landed in a crouch over Steve’s supine body. Rapidly taking in the sightlines, he didn’t see anyone with weapons. No way was he going to move away from an unconscious Steve. 

“’Fraid I’m not going to do that. Wanna tell me who I’m talkin’ to?” He hoped to provoke a response to get a bead on the speaker, but again the directionless voice rang out. 

“You’re in my tower and asking me who I am? It’s been a long couple of days, and I’ve faced down bigger threats than a Cold War assassin, so you might just want to do what I say and step away from the Captain.” 

Well that cleared that up at least. Stark knowing his alter ego was a bit of a snag, but Bucky breathed a little more freely knowing he was at least among Steve’s friendlies. 

“Listen, Stark, I don’t care what you know or who you think I am, but Steve needs a doc pretty bad and he wanted to come here, so cutting the BS short would be appreciated.” 

“Right, I’m supposed to believe that, what’s your code name, oh yeah. I’m supposed to believe that the Winter Soldier, top of every wanted list of every agency I can access, is just here to play Good Samaritan to Captain America? Pull the other one, pal.” Stark’s voice was hostile, but Bucky could hear a thread of concern for Steve that made coming here the right choice. 

“Okay, so you can access some top-security files. Then look up James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant, US Army, 32557883.” He stayed in a crouch next to Steve, praying to every saint he could remember that Stark would get a move on. They really couldn’t afford a typical Stark ego throwing its weight around. He’d give him maybe two more minutes to look up whatever he needed and then he’d have to get creative. 

He was still ruminating on how the more things change when Steve’s breath stopped for one terrifying eternal moment, then started again sounding far more laboured than before. 

“Jesus, Rogers, you make me do mouth to mouth before you kiss me hello and we’re gonna have words. Words, ya hear? Like when you broke that cabinet and let me take the rap with Sister Mary Elizabeth.” 

Bucky bent over to check Steve’s pulse, keeping up the commentary since his voice seemed to calm the Omega slightly. “Damn, that woman knew how to lay a guilt trip. And all you had to do was blink those baby blues at her and act like butter wouldn’t melt.” He let out a sob. “Damn it, Stevie, you hang in there!” 

Stark’s voice cut in only a few seconds before Bucky’s internal countdown, “Are you seriously trying to tell me that Sergeant Bucky Barnes, sidekick to Captain America, is somehow alive and kicking in the form of an infamous cybernetic Soviet assassin?” 

Bucky glowered at the term ‘sidekick’ and forcibly pushed the other ego in his head down. “Look, Stark, I’m sure you’ve got a whole bunch of biometric scanners and analysis stuff in this place, so you can verify I’m telling the truth. But Steve doesn’t have a lot of time and he needs me, so please, just get him some help. I’ll swear on anything you want that I’m not going to go crazy and kill everything in sight; I’ll even let you disable my arm, just please, I am begging you to not let Steve die.”

Fuck pride. If Steve died, he wouldn’t be in need of it anyway. 

There was an ominous, or dramatic given he was dealing with a Stark, pause, then came “Second elevator from the left. I’ll bring you up.”


	3. I Wanna Be There Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Bucky's POV
> 
> Okay, Steve was finally getting help. It might be high time for that impending meltdown...

Bucky carefully scooped up Steve, dropping a kiss on his sweaty brow as he rose. He headed to the elevators where the one Stark had indicated was standing open. Fingers crossed he wasn’t heading into a trap, he gripped his Omega closer and stepped in. 

Steve stirred briefly, grasping again at Bucky’s shirt and moaning. Bucky’s side of the bond was awash in the feedback of Steve’s pain, but he still couldn’t reach out and help his suffering mate. Something was blocked on Steve’s end. 

His ruminations were cut short as Steve’s eyes slitted open, just enough to give a hint of fever-bright blue. “Buck? Y’r still h’re?” 

Jeez, Steve, right for the knife in the gut. “Yeah, buddy, I’m still here. Not going anywhere. We’re at Stark Tower, heading up to get you fixed up with your friends, ‘member that?” 

Steve nodded into Bucky’s chest. “I ‘member.” 

“I’m not sure if I should find this adorable or sickening. Sickening, yes, let’s go with sickening,” Stark’s voice cut in, not, as Bucky expected, coming from above, but from the doors that had somehow opened without his awareness. His preoccupation, while understandable, was going to get Steve and him killed. 

Steve groaned as Bucky felt a sympathetic wash of pain. “Sh’t up, Tony,” his boy managed to get out before losing the battle with consciousness again. 

“Well, don’t just stand there, bring him in. Also, be aware that you have no fewer than five motion-activated armaments aimed at following your every moment, so do try to contain yourself from a mad rampage.” The second sentence was said in the same bland pleasantness as the first, making the threat more serious, especially backed up with the stern expression. Stark was easily identifiable as Howard’s kid, but the additional man and woman were unknown. 

Bucky reflexively clutched at Steve, but forced himself to step off the elevator. These were the people Steve said would help, so he could only trust them a bit. A very small bit, anyway. He forced himself to telegraph every movement, pressing his increasing anxiety down; he could tell the others were extremely nervous. 

Well, not Stark. He was pretty much bouncing on his toes in a gratingly familiar excitement. 

“Uh, thanks. For helping.” Bucky cleared his throat, some of the nervousness in the room catching hold. “Um, is there somewhere I can set him? He needs to be comfortable and...” 

Stark interrupted, “Yeah, first things first while you still have an armful of Cap. And may I just say he does an _impeccable_ imitation of a damsel in distress.”

He bounded over, seemingly fearless, but experience let Bucky read his wariness in every step. Stark ran a small handheld device over his left arm, accompanied by a series of pops and hisses from inside. Seeing his look of confusion, Stark clarified, “Scanned your less-than-finely crafted hardware there while you were on the way up. You should have full range of motion, but I just disabled all the little hidden electronic goodies in there, along with a whole slew of tracking equipment. Now, that makes me wonder why a loyal attack dog would need to be kept on that short of a leash.” 

Bucky breathed a little easier, knowing he was permanently off grid. “Long story that doesn’t actually have anything to do with getting Steve better. He said someone named Bruce would be able to help?” Yeah, okay, he was pleading, but faster would be better in at least stabilizing his Omega. 

The man who hadn’t spoken yet took a few steps forward, saying, “That’s me, I’m Bruce Banner. Tony, back off a bit. Bring Steve over to the med station.” 

As he followed what he hoped was someone with advanced medical skills, Bucky looked around at the chaos of the room. There were obvious dedicated activity areas, but it looked like a little bit of everything in one giant room. Tools and mechanical parts were scattered in piles, paperwork was spread across flat surfaces, a small kitchenette stood in the background. Thankfully, a professional looking exam table and medical equipment were also present. He carefully, if a little reluctantly, placed Steve down on the table, hands lingering as he straightened long limbs. 

He finally looked up at his hosts, all of whom had followed. The red-haired woman, a Beta he thought, had moved closer to Stark and was giving Bucky that gooey-eyed look dames got around kids and puppies. Abruptly remembering his manners, Bucky straightened. “Apologies ma’am, for disrupting your evening.” 

Stark snorted, but the woman just smacked his arm and stepped around him, extending her hand to Bucky. She had guts, he had to give her that. Sure they’d stripped the electronics in his arm, but he was still a physical threat. He gingerly took her hand and shook it briefly as she said, “I’m Pepper, and it’s not a disruption if Captain Rogers needs help.” 

_Courtesy with a courtesy, Buck._ He could practically hear Steve in his head.

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am, but you can call me Bucky. And I do, _we_ do appreciate it.” He took a breath and turned and nodded to Stark, “Mr. Stark.” 

He got a distracted nod back from the other Alpha as they both turned and crowded around the table. Banner had immediately begun hooking Steve up to various machines. Bucky recognized a saline drip, but that was it. 

He had to give these people credit; they certainly went right to work. Banner, and something about him was setting off Bucky’s warning senses, started describing what he was doing as soon as he noticed their attention. 

“Steve is experiencing several disparate issues that I’m working on alleviating the symptoms of first. He has a dangerously high fever and is severely dehydrated as a consequence, but I’ve got him on fluids. Not only is he shaking from the fever, he has muscle spasms of different types and intensities: skeletal, again from the dehydration and probably lingering from the battle and, more concerning, mild dystonias.” 

Banner was good, he didn’t even pause before explaining, “Some of the chemicals controlling movement in Steve’s brain aren’t functioning properly, causing groups of muscles to twist painfully. You can’t really see them yet, and we’ll hope they don’t increase to visible levels, but the sensors in the table are reading every contraction. He’s in severe pain, which is not helping the last issue, shock, not that it should be possible with his other symptoms. His blood pressure is low, even with his rapid heart rate, and shock accounts for his unconscious state.” Banner kept moving as he was talking, checking readings and comparing them to data streaming on the futuristic displays off to the side of the little medbay. 

Bucky couldn’t say anything. He just gripped Steve’s hand and stood there, trapped in the what ifs. What if he had gotten to Steve any later? What if his pursuers had caught them on the way here? What if Steve’s friends hadn’t wanted to help? What if they knew what was really happening with Steve? What if, what if, what if. 

“Barnes. _Barnes_!” 

He twitched, coming back to the present at Stark’s call. He looked up and had no idea what expression was on his face, but Stark swore and yanked over a chair. He forcibly pushed Bucky into it, which was probably good since he all of sudden couldn’t feel his knees. 

Banner stopped on the other side of Steve and looked directly at Bucky for the first time. That sense of danger increased, made worse by the fact Bucky couldn’t pin down a dynamic for the guy, but he was treating Steve, so Bucky carefully didn’t react. Banner, sure he had Bucky’s attention, said, “Like I said, his issues are conflicting and shouldn’t be possible all at the same time, but I want to get control of the symptoms immediately. I’m not really sure what’s going on here, and his metabolism is going to be problem with any drugs I try. I’ve got the electrolytes and fluids covered, but if you have any suggestions or ideas, I need to hear them.” 

Distantly, Bucky respected the no-nonsense approach. And the time to come up with a story while Steve's symptoms got treated. “Uh, during the war, Steve got a really bad headache from a concussion and things, and the only thing we had was willow bark tea from this little old French lady where we were holing up. It actually worked a lot better than anything manufactured.” 

Banner was already moving over to a bag on the floor. “I’m partial to homeopathy myself, so I always have some. This is good. It’ll help with both fever reduction and pain management.” 

Pepper raced over to the kitchenette to heat water as Stark rooted around for another fluid bag. Bucky simply gripped Steve’s hand tighter and gave thanks for Steve being Steve and always finding the best groups of people. He was a little wary that they seemed so accepting of who he said he was (hell, he still didn’t believe it was possible he was here, but that was a bad thought that brought about bad things), but anybody with access to his SSR file should be able to verify his claim. And disabling his arm (creepy, still very, very creepy to have that thing attached to him) went a long way in justifying Steve’s belief that these people could keep him safe. 

Within five minutes, the brew was ready. Banner gestured over to Pepper, who walked up to Bucky and laid a hand on his shoulder. Banner said, “I need to put in a feeding tube, and I really don’t think you want to watch this. It can be very disturbing, even more so than a wound, so please just turn your head.” 

He didn’t want to look away from Steve at all, but Pepper moved her hand, slowly to not startle him, and covered his eyes. She said, gently, “Trust us, Bucky; this is very unpleasant to watch a loved one go through.” 

Bucky was of the opinion that _listening_ without seeing was actually far, far worse, but he obliged them, figuring he owed them enough for Steve already. 

“Okay, done.” Pepper pulled her hand away and gave his shoulder another pat. Steve was now covered with a blanket and with all of the sensors and tubes, Bucky could really only see from the top of his head to his closed eyes. 

The past two weeks of determination, fear, confusion and forcing himself to keep going caught up all at once. Bucky found himself folding in half from the emotional implosion. He ducked his head down to rest on Steve’s hand still clutched in his own and couldn’t help the gasping sobs that boiled out. It’s not like he really had any dignity left to be worried about anyone seeing the big tough Alpha bawling like a baby. If they knew of the other guy, they already knew his darkest secrets anyway; a little emotion was a drop in the bucket compared to that. 

It just really hit him that Steve was _alive_. More than that, Steve was alive and Bucky was himself enough to appreciate it. They somehow were together seventy years after being split apart and how does that even work? 

He vaguely heard more people enter the room, but the tension in the room didn’t rise, so he gave himself a few moments to compose himself. He did start paying more attention; he couldn’t protect Steve if he kept losing it. Especially if they found out about the bond sickness. 

An unfamiliar female spoke with tension in her voice, “Stark. Did you verify the intel JARVIS gave us?” 

“Um...well, that was the code red. But now it’s just kind of sad. What am I meant to do with a crying assassin? All that lovely adrenaline, wasted.” 

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice was chiding. 

“Well seriously. Look at him! I was all geared up with battle plans and strategies and now there’s just...that. Seriously, this is like those horrible commercials of starved puppies or something.” 

“Tony, stop.” That was Bruce taking over. “Here, guys, look at this.” 

There was silence that Bucky didn’t really feel like breaking. He stayed by Steve, reassured by the more regular pulse he could feel in the wrist under his hand. The bond was still telling him jack-shit, but at least it was there. The painkiller had finally kicked in, too, making the bond lessen its affect a bit. 

Bucky was just about to sink into it to see if he could open up Steve’s end when Stark called over to him. 

“Hey Barnes, company’s here.” 

Gritting his teeth and cursing internally, Bucky slowly sat up, eyes lingering on Steve’s slightly more relaxed figure. He wrenched his attention away, forcing himself to attend to the newcomers and possible threats.


	4. And Spread Some Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Bucky's POV. Steve needs to stop being a lump on a table, seriously. These are his friends Bucky's dealing with, here.

As he faced the cluster of Steve’s new buddies, the new red-headed dame, an Omega and definitely the more immediate threat, drew in an almost inaudible breath. The new guy, her partner going by the body language, tensed in reaction. 

Bucky had a feeling things were going to get unpleasant. 

“солдат, вы должны уйти в отставку,” the lady spoke.

Damn it. 

Bucky fought back a wave of vertigo as his brain felt like it was being scrambled. 

He gritted out, “леди, вы не хотите, чтобы говорить по-русски прямо сейчас,” and then cursed again as he listened to what came out of his mouth. He clutched at Steve’s hand, trying to anchor his sense of self in his constant, his Stevie. 

The room was frozen on knifepoint, the atmosphere so tense it felt like he would shatter with it. 

Bucky felt himself going under, his consciousness being subsumed by that other mentality. He panicked, not wanting to go back into the dark, cold place he remembered far too well...and Steve’s limp hand twitched in his as a pulse went through the bond. 

It wasn’t anything greater than a typical Omega query of ‘are you here’, seeking his Alpha while his body rested, but it was enough to let Bucky reclaim control. He felt a terrifying sense of controlled, yet frustrated, violence as that other, false persona passed his own sense of self on its way to that formless prison in the corner of their currently shared being. 

Aware he hadn’t actually taken a breath in his struggle to not fade away, Bucky gasped in air, bending slightly with the force of his relief. He gripped Steve’s hand, lax again, in return and sent a reassurance through the bond. He grit his teeth as he felt the wall on his Omega’s end still in place. There was a bit more give to it as Steve’s pain was alleviated, but it was still irksomely solid. 

“Well. That was fun.” Stark’s voice didn’t quite manage the nonchalance it was aiming for. 

Bucky gave a dry chuckle that sounded more like a rusty saw blade. “You don’t know the half of it, pal.” 

The redhead was staring at him with a sharply focused curiosity on top of the remaining suspicion. Her partner had relaxed, at least visibly, but was glancing between Bucky and Steve in a way that made the Alpha’s hackles rise. 

“Ya got something to say?” Bucky growled out, the adrenaline from his close call still raging through his system and setting all of his protective instincts alight. 

“No, man, just didn’t know the Cap was taken, that’s all.” Holding his hands up in the universal ‘I come in peace’ motion as Bucky levelled a challenging glare, the guy exchanged a look with the infuriatingly familiar redhead. 

“Clint Barton. It’s an honour to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.” Suddenly a mischievous grin stretched across his face. “You were always my favourite part of history.” 

Huh. Okay, that was weird. Bucky guessed that’s what he got for following Steve, who had always had a few loose screws, and the Howlies, who weren’t much better. He got slapped in history books. 

The redheaded dame seemed to come to a decision. Stalking gracefully over to where Bucky was still huddled into the table bearing Steve’s bulk, she stopped short a good two feet away. Bucky watched, warily, as she carefully extended a hand. 

She kept it there, even as the moment stretched out while Bucky decided if he trusted the gesture. It was the patient and somewhat understanding expression on her face that called the vote. He put his hand in her deceptively tiny one, hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake. 

She solemnly shook his hand. “It _is_ an honour to meet you, Sergeant James Barnes. I’m Natasha, Natasha Romanov.” 

And boy, was that ringing a few distant but terrifying bells down in the pits of his psyche. 

Fortunately, Romanov continued, breaking up another incident before it started. 

“And I’d like to apologize for the ambush just then. You remind me greatly of someone I used to know and I reacted poorly.” 

Bucky, not being the fathead Gabe and Monty always said he was, immediately took her meaning. Looking sharply at her, he caught her subtle nod of acknowledgement. 

Great. Just fucking great. What were the odds? Seriously, Steve was in for the interrogation of his life when the lunk finally woke up. How the hell was he hanging out with a presumably former Soviet agent? 

Stark redirected abruptly, “Yes, this is great, we all know each other now, but can we get back to a, what the hell was that, and b, what the hell is wrong with Cap?” 

Romanov fortunately took the opportunity, as Bucky was still wrestling with his desire to strangle his Omega. 

“I would guess, Stark, that you called us here based on my history, given your little trawl through the helicarrier’s database, so you know exactly what that was.” 

Bucky found Stark’s squawk of innocence amusing. 

“Really, did you think I wouldn’t have an alarm on my file that notifies me of it being accessed? I like to keep tabs on who thinks they know what.” 

Barton was smiling at Romanov in a pretty sappy way, making Bucky suspect they were more than just work partners. 

God, he hoped he never looked that dopey when he looked at Steve. 

“As for ‘that’,” Romanov continued over Stark’s bluster, “that was a trigger that set off Soviet programming. You almost met the Winter Soldier, Stark. Count yourself lucky you didn’t.” 

Bucky wasn’t terribly fond of the foreboding and heavy pause that hovered over the room after that pronouncement. It wasn’t like Romanov was wrong, but still, that was a trifle awkward for him. 

“Oh,” was Stark’s brilliant response, along with a drastically pale complexion. 

And that was probably his cue. Bucky really didn’t want to get into clarifying this point, but better details about who would be coming for him than anything to do with Steve’s status. 

“Yeah, so not only Soviet.” It was kind of intimidating how all the eyes in the room swivelled to look at him. Even Banner, who had oddly turned his back with his hands fisted at his sides after Bucky’s little episode, turned his attention back to the rest of the group. 

Bucky stared down at his hand wrapped around Steve’s. Boy, did he not want to believe what he had to tell them. And Steve, God, Steve’s reaction would be to go charging in full speed ahead, damn the consequences, just like it always had been. Maybe the bond sickness was actually a blessing in disguise. 

He was disgusted with himself the moment that thought crossed his mind. Steve was _dying_ and here Bucky was, thinking about how at least his headstrong best friend couldn’t go get himself killed by Nazis? 

“Bucky? Are you all right?” Pepper’s calm, quiet voice broke through his reverie. 

He shook himself out of his self-loathing, knowing that cycle was too vicious to start around other people. He’d been holed up on a cargo ship for six days with only himself and his thoughts for company. That hadn’t been pretty. 

“Yeah, sorry. I just can’t believe what I’m about to say.” He gathered himself, holding tight to Steve’s hand for reassurance. 

“HYDRA isn’t dead.” 

The room exploded into noise. 

“What?!” 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

“How is that even possible?” 

“No way. No, Nat, we would have known!” 

“No, seriously, somebody up there hates me. My life is a joke to the fates. HYDRA? In the twenty-first century? Does anything stay dead around here anymore? Is my dad going to walk through the doors next?” 

“God, I hope not,” Bucky muttered, never having been Howard’s biggest fan. 

Fortunately, that had the unlooked for effect of shutting Stark, Jr. up as he squinted at Bucky, probably trying to gauge his sincerity. 

“Look, I’m just telling you that yeah, I’ve been passed around like a frozen party favour the last few decades, from what little I can remember, and believe you me, that is more than enough. And the most recent bad guys? Definitely HYDRA. You might say I’m a bit of a definitive expert on them.” 

Barton burst in with, “But seriously, SHIELD was created out of the old SSR, whose entire mission was to rid the world of HYDRA. We would have known. _Somebody_ would have known.” 

“Not if HYDRA was hiding in plain sight.” Romanov’s quiet voice carried loudly through the vast space. 

“Think about it. You’re an organization on the brink of collapse. The war is over, or just as good as, and recruitment is way down because after all the death and destruction, most people just want peace. What do you do? What do you do when you and the remaining members believe so strongly that you’re right and the only way forward is through the visions of your mad leader?” 

Banner looked green. “Oh my God. You infiltrate the peacekeeping organizations that form after the war. You become ‘the enemy’ to hide, to convert, to keep tabs on the pulse of the world.” 

“And then, boom. You rise up when the time is right,” Stark finished. 

Bucky was feeling a little ill himself. He hadn’t put that together beyond a dire sense of failure that what he had died for, or well, thought he was dying for, had actually been in vain. But that train of logic made a whole hell of a lot of terrifying sense. 

Obviously, nobody felt like speaking after that. 

Bucky concerned himself with getting a rag and cool water to wipe the sweat off of Steve’s brow, hoping it soothed him the same way the familiar motion soothed Bucky. 

Of course, the quiet couldn’t last long with a Stark in the room. 

“Okay, so that was Exhibit A, but what about B? What is going on with Capsicle? He was just fine yesterday! Did something happen with one of the space whales? Or did Loki do something I missed?” 

_Loki? Oh, buddy, you are in for a heck of a chewing out when you wake up_ , Bucky thought fiercely toward his Omega, hoping it somehow got through their blocked bond. 

Romanov answered, “No, nothing like that. Barton and I went over the footage, just to see if we missed anything. Cap wasn’t hurt any more than the rest of us and he never dealt directly with Loki.” 

“Of course, you guys spent the day after saving the world going over the play by play,” Stark muttered, shaking his head. Pepper nudged him with an elbow from where she was tucked under his arm. 

Banner shifted his weight, the movement striking Bucky as ominous. God, here it finally came. Here was where he was going to get them thrown out because he had no idea what to do but tell the truth. 

“Sergeant? I have a theory, but I’m going to need your confirmation.” 

Bucky gripped Steve’s hand even harder, dreading what was coming. Now would be a great time for Steve to come to his rescue. He owed him, after all. 

“Are you and Steve bonded? Because this looks a lot like a severe case of bond sickness I once saw in Indonesia.” 

And of course, Steve’s response was to suddenly go into cardiac arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations (as best as Google can do):  
> Soldier, you need to stand down.  
> Lady, you do not want to be speaking Russian right now.


	5. When They Take Old Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Bucky to finally show his whole hand. Sleeping punks need to wake up and start dealing with this shit instead of leaving it to their Alphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 10.6% quota for Omegas is a reference to the WWII draft quota for black Americans meant to ‘reflect their numbers’ according to history.com. The application, however, is purely fictional.
> 
> Trigger Warning: there's some discussion of torture and trauma related dissociative identity disorders. It's meant to be a clinical discussion, so if there are details off, let me know. I deal with history professionally, not the brain.

_Not what I meant, punk,_ was Bucky's only thought as he was pushed off to the side in the flurry of Banner, Romanov, and Barton doing something medical to Steve. 

He felt so useless. He couldn't help Steve at all, not any more than when he'd been a passenger in his own body for the past however fucking long. 

All he could do was grab tight to their bond and fight like hell to keep Steve from going to the one place he couldn't follow. 

The sadly somewhat familiar fight to keep Steve from that tango he was determined to dance with Death soothed and focused his frazzled nerves. He still couldn't get a damn read off of the bond, but he felt Steve's end getting dark and cold. Bucky latched on to that ephemeral thread connecting their souls, putting every ounce of Alpha command behind it. Steve's end flickered a little brighter, so Bucky settled in for the fight, digging his metaphorical heels in. 

He'd sunk so far into himself, focusing on how he was going to kick Steve's ass for getting into such bad shape and _still_ going out to fight the previous day, that he was only distantly aware of everything going on around him. Particularly that he’d somehow managed to push all of Steve’s teammates out of the way and clamber up on the table, hauling Steve against his chest as he did so. 

Bucky was a little too wrapped up in the bond to really feel bad about that, though. 

Steve, the little shit, almost dropped off another time, but Bucky yanked back hard enough that he felt like he came face to face with the block on the end of the bond. He didn't particularly care about that right at present, more concerned with keeping the jerk alive, but he distantly noticed some cracks forming in his conception of the block. He'd have to think about that later, when Steve wasn't flatlining. 

Apparently deciding to get with the program, finally, Steve's presence got warmer and brighter and stayed that way. Bucky held on, merged into the bond for longer than was probably necessary, but Steve was sneaky, so he made sure things were a-okay before he pulled back. 

Not before leaving a mental slap at the bond for Steve pulling this crap again after everything. 

Of course, with a fucking Stark in the room, he didn't even have a second to regain his balance after feeling Steve trying to die. 

"Think that answers your question, Brucey." 

Banner sighed as he tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Don't call me that." 

Pepper, definitely making herself Bucky’s favourite, asked, “Are you all right, Bucky?” 

Before he could even get a response out other than a grateful look at the beautiful, kind creature Stark sure as hell didn’t deserve, said annoyance burst in with, “Look, we all saw that, so just tell us flat, are you and the Cap bonded?” 

Not seeing any alternative, Bucky steeled himself for the disgust sure to come his and Stevie’s way. He was damn proud of his Omega, no matter what anyone said. He’d find some other way to take care of Steve. He’d been doing it all his life, anyway. 

“Yeah, yeah we are.” 

“Then why the hell didn’t you speak up as soon as you got here?” Surprisingly, it was Banner blowing his top. “I could have been working on a whole other level of care if I knew it was bond sickness!” 

“I didn’t know if you would help!” Bucky roared back, finally losing his temper. “I didn’t know if you knew Steve’s status and if you would help once you figured it out!” 

He was met by stunned incomprehension. As his defensive anger cooled, it dawned on him that maybe things were really different all the way around in this future Steve and him had found themselves in. His knowledge of politics and the modern world was patchy at best without tapping into the other guy in his head, but if he extrapolated from some things... 

His eyes darted to Steve’s medical records still on display and sure enough, they only read Omega, not anything else. 

God, it was almost too good to be true. 

It suddenly occurred to him that he couldn't be sure if maybe this wasn't some type of new torture cooked up by HYDRA for him and he was actually back in a lab somewhere, being put through his paces like some rat in a maze. Give the subject nearly everything he's ever wanted and wait to yank the rug out, leaving him even more destroyed, or maybe that was the plan, to finally get rid of the Bucky part that inhabited the body of their weapon.

God, he was making himself dizzy trying to figure things out. 

On the other hand, him being dragged through the decades as a science experiment, sure, he could see. HYDRA were always dicks, and messing with the natural order of things to make a weapon? Not unlikely. Just look at Steve and the whole Captain America shit. Vita-Rays, his fine ass. They were already living in some comic book, but was social equality really possible, too? 

Bucky took a deep breath, scenting Steve. He took in all the nuances of his favourite scent in the whole world. The sweet and tart apple still underlay the cordite and ozone, but instead of scorched cotton and the stench of New York, there were crisp metal and sanitized notes that smelled like nothing he remembered. If this was some hallucination or virtual reality or something, it stood to reason that it would be exactly like he remembered. 

Okay, so going with the utterly insane theory that yes, he and his mate had made it through a world war, torture, science experiments, and were together again almost a full century later. How was an entirely ‘nother story, but Bucky felt somewhat comfortable in tentatively believing this was reality. 

Maybe he’d pencil in a break down for later, after Steve was better. 

Time to deal with the present, though. If the future really was a better place than the one they'd left, he most probably owed an explanation. 

He took a breath and started, “Okay, quick history lesson. Omega rights are probably a new-fangled thing, right, with the only major breakthroughs in equality from at least after the war?” 

Stark interrupted, “Yeah, my parents were really into that. I always wondered about that, since they didn’t seem to worry about any other major political issues. I guess that,” he jerked his chin at Steve, “explains it. Dad always had a major hard-on for Cap.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to automatically defend Steve, but something in Stark’s expression pinged his radar. Given what he knew about Howard, and jeez, given his kid, how lucky was the army that he had been a Beta, indulged in his passions because of his wealth but otherwise disregarded by the prejudice of the times? Howard as an Alpha and allowed to run free was a terrifying thought all the way around. 

Then again, they may have won the war faster... 

But still, he recognized bitterness due to a parental figure when he saw it. Poor kid had probably grown up with hearing how he’d never measure up to the mythically perfect Captain America. Bucky loved Steve beyond anything, but the jerk was definitely far from perfect. Howard, however, had practically idolized Steve, and Bucky had nearly come to blows with him more than once before he’d recognized Howard’s interest sprang from pure scientific interest in pushing the boundaries of a successful experiment. Not that that had made Bucky any happier to have Steve basically dehumanized, but at least he didn’t have to fight his instincts to leave the two of them in the lab. 

He’d probably sort Junior over there out later, if for nothing other than to get back at Howard a bit, albeit posthumously, but he had more important fish to fry at the moment. 

“Yeah, okay, pity party for one later. My point is that back home, Omegas didn’t have many rights, but they were treated well, compared to earlier periods. Some places were still segregated, but mostly out of tradition or for modesty purposes. Omegas aren’t, or rather, weren’t considered third-class, so much as needing to be protected from the big bad world. Unless you happened to be one of the unlucky 0.04% of non-breeding Omegas.” 

Bucky took a breath and ran his hand over Steve’s hair. God, those words brought back far too many horrible memories. How many times had Steve’s status been used against him? 

“Any Omega who couldn’t conceive or carry to term was ostracized and considered deficient. Steve...Stevie was already looked down on for being small, and being sick all the time didn’t help. Once he presented and got that diagnosis, well, everything that was already crap went to hell. We had to keep his status secret from most of our landlords if we didn’t want to get chucked out. Non-breeders, and God I hate that term, aren’t, _weren’t_ allowed to bond and even sharing a heat with one could get both Alpha and Omega arrested. ‘Course, the courts always blame the Omega for ‘luring’ the poor defenceless Alpha and you would be lucky to get a life sentence.” 

Nobody said anything, all of them contemplating the major strides the world had made. Steve chose that moment to whimper in his thankfully now natural sleep and tried to curl even close to Bucky, who ran a hand down his back and shushed him. He nuzzled into the golden hair against his chest, letting a little bit of peace through the miasma of worry and fear the day, hell the past 70 years had brought. 

"Didn't stop this jerk, though. I knew he was the only one for me, but I never woulda said anything, just to keep him safe. That worked for all of a hot minute until Steve came boiling up at me one night after work and said he couldn't give a rat's ass what anybody thought. He wanted me as his Alpha and if I wasn't too chicken shit, I'd bond with him that night. Just pure Steve cussedness and damn the consequences. I wasn't dumb enough, or smart enough-the jury's still out on that one, to turn him down. We had to hide from everyone. My ma and sisters never even knew, not that I didn't trust them, but one slip up, and Steve was as good as dead." Bucky took a deep breath, smelling the not-so-sweet post-battle scent of Steve to calm down. "It was worth it though. God knows, it's always been worth it." 

Barton piped up, obviously pondering something if his furrowed brow was any indication. "But if things were so bad for Omegas, how'd Steve end up in the Army?" 

Oh, boy. That was a button guaranteed to set Bucky off on a tirade. He poked the bond again, chastising Steve yet again for his stubbornness. 

“The war didn't make anything better, but an able body was an able body. Omegas made up 10.6% overall for the draft, so if you’ve got, say, 100 Omegas in Brooklyn, the draft could only take up to 10, since you can’t have 0.6 of a person. Volunteers could only make up an extra 2% of the quota, and in that case, you can’t take any volunteers, because 2% of 10 is not a whole person. It was wacky and complicated and kinda ass-backward to draft and not take the volunteers first, ‘specially since they were so concerned with maintaining a ‘breeding ratio’." 

Bucky shuddered as he remembered all of the hostility Steve had faced when that little gem had come through in legislation. Didn't seem to matter about their designation; bullies of all types kept hassling Steve about going over as cannon fodder, since he wasn't going to be popping out kids. It wasn't like the idiot wasn't bound and determined to volunteer and go die over there without, anyway. 

He drew a breath and continued his lecture to his apparently rapt audience. 

"Alphas had it better, or worse, depending on your point of view. You were practically forced to volunteer, given public pressure. An Alpha that didn’t, in particular an unbonded Alpha? Made a pariah and publicly shamed. They couldn’t show their face in public without taking a fist to it and shops were likely to turn them away. The quota was more of a total than for the Omegas, so a borough could, and was supposed to, give up 50% of their Alphas 18-45 years of age, through volunteer or draft. It was actually some bogus 49% or something less than half to reassure the public, but you can bet they didn’t worry overmuch about filling in that last 1%. And since the number of Alphas in each borough changed with each new crop of 18 year olds, there was basically a constant flow of cannon-fodder.” 

Pepper shuddered visibly and Romanov and Stark had grim expressions. Barton and Banner just looked sad, like the world had let them down. 

"Yeah, okay, thank you, Professor, but how does that explain you not being all murder-y and evil right now? Or at any point since your swan dive?" Stark rerouted the conversation. “Because, yay for love and all that, and I’m so glad that Capscicle isn’t actually a 90-year-old virgin, but is anyone else concerned with the fact that Bucky Bear here is suddenly Bucky Bear again and not a Murderbot? Or that he can apparently be triggered into Terminator mode?” 

Not a topic Bucky found very comforting, and he vowed to get Stark for that Bucky Bear crack, but he knew he owed it to these people to be straight with them. 

“I wasn't always frozen or triggered. Spent so long as a fucking lab rat. Their psych corps found me just fascinatin’ and I’d get thawed out and wake up all confused until they hurt me enough for me to hide in the corner of my brain like a pathetic coward and let their precious Soldier come forward. That's how they got their assassin in the first place; I just couldn't fucking handle it anymore. Just tucked myself down into a deep little hidey hole and next thing I knew, I was sharing head space with some other guy. Not that that stopped their experiments. An' they tried all kinds of stimuli: electricity, guns, knives, hot/cold, hell, they even tried an Omega in heat a time or two.” 

He pulled himself out of the memories with effort, their quicksand effect dragging at him and reluctant to let him go. He glanced up at his horrified audience and said, wryly, “That last didn’t quite work the way they wanted.” 

Stark looked a little shaken, but gamely kept pressing, "Okay, but how did you survive the bond going dormant? It's not like Cap was kicking around up here. Better yet, how did Cap manage to miss the fact that you were actually alive after the train?

“They had me on bond suppressants pretty much the instant they found me, otherwise Steve would have known I was alive.” 

“That’s...that’s barbaric!” 

“Yeah, remember how we’re talking about Soviet brainwashing spy masters? Don’t think they really cared about humane or legal.” Stark’s words were flippant, but his tone was serious. 

“So what happened this time?” Bruce spoke up, getting them back on track. “Obviously something changed for you to feel the bond again, and not just Steve being out of the ice. Suppressants would still mask you from each other, so something had to change.” 

Bucky, mind stuck on the word ‘ice’, replied, “I don’t know, but I kinda got the feeling it was a rush job waking me this time. People were hurrying around and I could practically feel the tension rising before I was even physically awake. They may have just missed a step, or maybe the original protocols were lost. I don’t even know how long it’s been since I, he, dammit, _I_ was awake. All I know is, one minute my brain is kicking itself back online and the next I’m suddenly swamped with pain down the bond. It was pulsing and twisting and damn near tearing my guts out, so all I could focus on was getting to Steve, ‘cause I knew he was in trouble. They tried to trigger me, but the pull was too strong and it didn't take.” 

He paused, not wanting to admit the next part. “I kind of blanked out for a bit after that; I don’t know if it was the programming kicking in or just self-defence in getting rid of a threat to the bond. It wasn’t the other guy, but,” he looked down at Steve and blinked back tears of frustration and remorse, “but somehow everyone in that lab was incapacitated when I came back to myself. Which really shook me up, but I felt that tug again to get to Steve, so I rifled through the stuff in the lab for anything useful and managed to figure out where I was and how to get out of there.” 

He huffed an un-amused laugh and continued, “Let me tell you, it is beyond strange to watch your body do something without any conscious knowledge of what exactly that something is. Apparently muscle memory works even after years of brainwashing, to say nothing of suddenly knowing things that were only dreamed of a coupla months, dammit, back during the war. Some things about this time I find completely normal, until I think about it and then it freaks me right out. Like using a computer or security protocols, like knowing I had to take a ship instead of a plane because of the arm. Or especially this fucking thing itself,” he said bitterly as he waved the thing his torturers had inflicted on him. 

Stark was giving him a completely disbelieving look, although Bucky hadn't missed that covetous glance at his metal arm. “Seriously? Your bond fought off _decades_ of mental conditioning and torture? What, are we in a romance novel now? That’s some seriously hand-wavy science right there.” 

“Actually, it’s not that much of a stretch.” 

Everyone turned to look at Banner’s unexpected contribution. 

He blinked at them. “No, really. Dissociative states and personality disorders are actually becoming understood as a defence mechanism to trauma. The mind can’t cope with severe situations, so the identity can retreat, let a protective personality emerge designed to hide the original from having to face what happened. Some cases show signs of bleed-through, letting details absorb into the non-dominant or non-active personality. I’m no psychologist, but this is something of a pet study of mine, given the obvious. It sounds like that’s what happened here.” 

Banner turned to Bucky, absolutely no judgement or pity in his expression which made him like the guy all the more. “You went through something no person should ever go through, were brutalized in ways that defy description. By rights, if you hadn’t retreated, hadn’t let the Winter Soldier emerge, you would be either dead or completely insane. You did exactly what was necessary to protect yourself, which allowed you to keep your sense of self, even if it was mostly submerged behind an increasingly dominant personality. The cryo state was a safe place, which let you, as the original personality, emerge. That’s probably why you were present at the last awakening and the pull of the bond was enough of a shock to keep you in control.” 

Bucky was reeling a bit, still feeling shame at letting a monster loose on the world for so many years. But a small part of him was actually listening and was almost willing to consider the idea that he really hadn’t had a choice and wasn’t really to blame for the actions of his body when he himself was not in control. 

Wasn’t sure he’d ever fully believe that, but the fact that these people thought so went a long way. 

Banner drew his attention as he shifted to an obviously more familiar topic. “The bond is a physiological connection, however, which means it didn’t matter which personality was driving, so to speak. Once the bond blocks weren’t there and Steve was revived, the bond would have snapped to the fore, driving the body to be near the other half. We were only lucky it was you instead of the Soldier, as there would have been no emotional connection, no understanding of why your shared body was in pain. It would not have ended well.” 

Well, shit. 

That was all Bucky had to say about that. He pinged the bond gently, letting the slight feel of Steve fill his senses. 

Banner continued, “Bucky, I want you to try to reach Steve through the bond.” 

Bucky snorted, “What do you think I’ve been trying to do ever since I found him? It’s gotten a little better since his pain stopped, but there’s a massive block on it. I dunno what that is; it feels like some kinda concrete, if I had to visualize it." 

Banner honed in on that, "Like concrete? As in something poured onto the bond, not part of it?" 

Giving that a little bit of thought, he replied, "Yeah, something like that." 

Remembering something, Bucky continued, "And there were some cracks in it. I saw them when bozo over here tried to punch out earlier. I was holding on to my end for dear life and musta pulled a little hard, because it kind of felt like all of a sudden the block was right in my face. I saw a couple cracks running through it, or felt, whatever, but that's what my brain interpreted it as." 

Dealing with metaphysical concepts was a pain. 

"I guess I can give it another go and see what's going on in there." 

Bucky closed his eyes, self-conscious of doing this in front of the whole assembled gang. He was especially aware of Stark and Barton, just knowing they were making faces at him. 

Steve really knew how to pick 'em. 

With that thought, he floated down the bond, following the connection back to Steve's soul. He must have been a little over eager, as this time the block on the bond smacked him flat in the face, soul, whatever. It stung. 

He shot the equivalent of a nasty look at Steve, since it was obviously his fault. 

Bucky took a moment to examine the block in front of his senses. The cracks were wider than he remembered and he realized he'd actually been getting a better sense of Steve for a while now without realizing it. Unless he was seeing what he wanted to, now that he knew there was hope. 

Eh, whatever, he was taking it as a good sign. 

Giving the bond a quick hug, he swam back to his side and surfaced into the real world. 

Meeting the expectant looks around him, he shrugged, saying, "I think the cracks are a little wider than they were, but they're definitely there." 

Excitedly, Bruce encouraged, "That's good. That's a very good sign. The case I witnessed was similar. The Omega described a kind of waterfall dampening the bond, but noticed more and more rocks diverting the water the longer she concentrated on the bond and sang to her Alpha. Apparently, song was a strong part of their relationship, even before the bond." 

"Is there something special about your relationship with Steve that you can use like that?" Pepper asked gently, stepping on Stark's foot as he opened his mouth. Bucky could guess what smart remark would have been forthcoming, but he was too busy being a little gleeful over a pretty simple solution. 

Oh, this he could do. 

He was the king of slapping Steve upside his big fat head. If this was all it took to get his Omega back, both to the land of consciousness and after 70 fucking years, consider it done. 

He must have been smirking, because Barton did a quick double take and Romanov slowly smirked back. The others suddenly looked dubious, so he must have had a bit of an evil twist to his expression. 

"Oh, yeah. I've got this." 

And now that he thought about it, the wider cracks he had just seen made total sense, given his earlier mood and the nasty thoughts he'd been hurling at Steve. Hey, their relationship may not seem healthy, but ribbing each other had been a staple of them being them long before puberty and pledges of eternal love. 

Also, it would be nice if Steve could stop pulling shit like this and giving him heart attacks. If the punk would stop that behaviour, he might find he had a much more temperate bond mate.


	6. When the Brooklyn Boys Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is confused. And a little slow.
> 
> Bucky is just so done with this bond sickness malarkey.
> 
> Steve's POV, finally, with a little bit of Bucky's. POV jumps around on purpose. The boys are a little lost in each other.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's note: I was screaming at Steve to just go with it already and put Bucky out of his misery the whole time I was writing this.

Steve didn’t exactly know where he was, but it was kind of nice. He wasn’t in pain; he wasn’t really much of anything. His painfilled body didn’t really seem to exist wherever he was. All he felt was completely cocooned by soft greyness pushing down all around him. It was a heavy weight, but almost soothing in its uniformity. 

The lack of physical and emotional pain was a relief from the past few weeks. Or seven decades, if you felt like being Tony Stark and being pedantic for the sake of annoyance. 

On second thought, nope, aggravation wasn’t welcome in Steve’s cosy numbness. Neither were any emotions really. He was quite comfortable with a vague sense of contentment being the extent of his feelings at the moment. 

He’d been on the verge of getting worried when the grey had gotten darker some indeterminate time ago, but the soothing blandness came back. It was probably nothing. Nothing could hurt him wherever he was, anyway. 

But apparently, something could poke him wherever he was. 

Steve had felt a kind of prodding earlier, but ignored it just the same as he ignored anything that wasn’t his grey, weighty blanket of nothingness. It, however, seemed like it was getting more insistent. And he was starting to recognize that obnoxious request for attention. 

Ugh, could he not get any peace? 

Bucky kept poking him through their bond and all he wanted to do was stay safe and wrapped up in his little nest of grey weight. He didn’t want to go back to the pain and sadness that awaited him in that other place. 

Steve paused in his thoughts, realizing there was something very wrong with that statement. 

_Bucky!_

Steve vaguely remembered seeing Bucky right before finding himself in his numb, grey world. That had been a hallucination, right? Something brought on by the bond sickness? 

But then, how was Steve actually feeling Bucky through the bond... 

Suddenly feeling wide awake, Steve greedily latched on to the next poke, curling close to his imaginings of the bond and caressing it lovingly. 

He shuddered as he got a full dose of his Alpha’s love and longing back, filling the empty places in his soul that had slowly been atrophying since that day in the mountains. 

Steve couldn’t believe it. Good things didn’t happen in his life, not any more. 

Could his Alpha really be here? No, he’d felt the bond abruptly wink out. It hadn’t been the slow, drawn out process he’d always heard drove the remaining bond mate mad before the inevitable bond sickness took its toll. He’d just had Bucky torn out of his spot in Steve’s soul. 

But there was no way to fake that warmth glowing steadily within him. That was Bucky, back in his proper place. And boy, was his Alpha getting aggravated with him. It was obvious to Steve, having grown up with Bucky’s complete and utter lack of patience (just how he’d made such an excellent sniper was still a mystery), that Bucky was getting close to escalating in his attempts to pull Steve back out to the real world. 

Not that Steve had any better idea of how he’d gotten to wherever he was than before, but now that he was finally paying attention, Bucky may have been right for once. Steve wasn’t sure the greyness was actually benign. He was getting a bit more of a malignant sense that put him on edge and made him very eager to escape wherever the hell he was. 

Steve was going to take a leap and assume his consciousness was tucked somewhere inside his previously ailing body. Given how prevalent the bond seemed, it was likely he was in a corner of his soul. The answer to his problem was probably finding Bucky. It was a tried and tested strategy, after all. 

Tugging closer to the bond, Steve started pulling himself along it, yearning toward his Bucky and the physical world. The more he pulled, the more he felt like he was pulling against taffy, the tasty saltwater kind from Phillip’s on Coney Island Buck would always swipe for him, even though he himself had hated it. 

Okay, that was a random thought, even for Steve, who devoted several hours of his twenty-first century life to nostalgia. 

On the other hand, it seemed to be doing something, as the sucking backward pull lessened. 

Not being a tactical slouch, Steve put two and two together. If happy thoughts were all it took to break free, Steve would readily play Peter Pan. And never tell Bucky that he had briefly envisioned him as Tinkerbell. 

Steve had a lot of precious memories of Bucky, from childhood romps and scrapes to more private, intimate moments between mates. He happily lost himself in various instances from the past, shedding the funereal sense they’d held even a few days ago, feeling the bond more freely with every passing thought. 

Bucky, even being sunk totally into the bond and picking at it continuously, had no idea what was going through Steve’s subconscious. He was far too occupied doing the bond equivalent of throwing spit balls at the back of Steve’s head. 

Not that he’d ever done that in school or anything. 

As admitted, Bucky was a bit preoccupied with annoying the hell out of Steve in order to break up the block on the bond. It was therefore a bit of a shock when the bond came roaring back to life. He barely had time to fully comprehend his feeling complete for the first time in ages as the next moment, he found himself with a sudden armful of giant, cuddly blond. 

Apparently, a giant cuddly blond octopus, he thought as he batted at Steve’s hands, trying to get a grip on them before the situation rapidly went beyond family friendly. 

“Buck!” 

Steve couldn’t believe it. His Alpha, his Bucky, was right here. There was no mistaking that scent, or that voice that rumbled in laughter under his ear. 

“I don’t...what... _how_?” Steve asked, plaintively. He didn’t understand. He knew Bucky had died, had felt the bond stop. 

But now the bond was back, and Steve was practically rolling around in the connection to his Alpha, emanating all the euphoric feelings burning through him. Steve felt whole and nearly healthy for the first time in a very long time. And had an odd sense of deja-vu about his current train of thought. 

He was still confused, however, and Bucky wasn’t really making with the explanations. 

Loathe though he was to pull away from a corporeal, delicious-smelling Bucky, Steve craned his head back far enough to raise an eyebrow at his Alpha. 

Oh. 

His very weepy Alpha. 

“Oh, Buck, no, Bucky, it’s okay. I’m here,” Steve crooned, shifting to hold that precious face in his hands. 

“ _Stevie_ ” Bucky sobbed, not so much sending as unable to contain a maelstrom of feelings thundering through the bond. 

Steve hummed soothingly, pulling Bucky’s face against his shoulder. He sensed others in the room with them, wherever they were, but they weren’t registering as a threat. Well, not as more than a threat to Bucky’s Alphahood. He’d never been ultra-Alpha, but Steve knew his best guy well enough to know he’d be a total jerk if he got caught emoting all over the place. 

Plus, the faster Bucky calmed down, the sooner Steve could get answers and then have his own breakdown at being reunited. 

Bucky, for his part, hadn’t expected to be socked in the gut by the radiating warmth of devoted love Steve flooded the bond with as soon as he was conscious. The feeling wasn’t the light and airy Omega response of common myth; Steve was his bond mate, after all, and nothing had ever been calm and soft about Steve, even when he weighed ninety pounds soaking wet. No, this was searing, nearly violent passion and loyalty that washed over Bucky’s entire being before setting up a concentrated attack on the now flowing conduit of the bond. 

It was almost embarrassing how the feelings sweeping through the cold spot where the bond had lain dormant for the past few decades made him weak with relief. 

The absence of piercingly cold pain was almost as shocking as having the bond taken away in the first place and sent Bucky’s emotional centre into a complete tailspin as it tried to find stability in the abrupt return of Steve to the bond. He was probably crying, goddammit, unable to reconcile all he was feeling. 

He stuck his most likely gross, dripping face deep into Steve’s neck, concentrating on his slightly different scent as he desperately tried to adjust to their new normal. God, he felt pathetic, but it was also hard to care when he had Steve wrapped around him, alive, awake, and somewhat healthy. Steve, as ever, knew just what he needed and simply held him closer, giving him the time he needed to go from being achingly alone to bonded again with the best guy in the universe.  

With Bucky’s side of the bond calming down to radiate a fierce love and pride, Steve took a moment to finally look around at where they were. He was reluctant to take his eyes off Bucky, however, so he blessed his excellent peripheral vision as he did a brief recon. 

It seemed they were in some sort of medical facility, although the instrumentation looked nothing like the dreaded wards of Steve’s youth. The shiny technology and large holographic screen screamed Stark to Steve’s eyes. 

Sure enough, when he finally turned his head away from the miracle of his Alpha, he found not only Stark, but Dr. Banner, Barton, and Romanov, along with an additional woman he guessed was Tony’s girlfriend the genius had mentioned in passing babble. 

The team, his team maybe, had surprisingly shown some tact for the reunited mates and withdrawn to the far side of the giant room. 

 Not that it lasted. 

"So...where're your bond marks?" 

"Tony!" That was Barton and Banner.

"No, seriously, you guys are bonded right, but couldn't show it, so how'd you manage that without bonding bites on the neck?" 

Okay, so Bucky probably should have expected that to come up sooner or later from Stark after sharing that story earlier, but a quick glance at Steve's poor tomato of a face suggested he'd saved that gem for a conscious Steve. 

It also made him feel a little better that none of this new team of Steve's took him too seriously. That was always bad for his mental health, not to mention Bucky's. 

He glanced over at Steve and they shared a deeply intimate look as they remembered the night of their bonding. 

Steve broke their gaze, blushing slightly, but voice firm as he replied, “The neck isn’t the only bonding gland in the human body, Stark. Just the one most people know about. And can show in public without being arrested.” 

Stark seemed to splutter to a stop, for all of a millisecond, which Steve considered an achievement. 

“Did you just...did he just...Captain America just made an innuendo!” 

Stark’s redhaired girlfriend, and Steve would find out her name soon so he could thank her, started coaxing the inventor out of the room. 

“Come on, Tony, let’s go find something for our guests to eat, and maybe a change of clothes.” 

“Pep, you heard that right? The bastion of righteousness made a sexual reference! My world is shaken.” 

Fortunately for Stark, given Bucky’s increasingly dark looks at the teasing, Romanov got in on the forceable removal by virtue of latching on to a flailing arm and towing Stark out the door. Barton sketched a lazy salute in their general direction before following his partner out the door. 

That left only Banner. 

Steve watched, bemused, as Dr. Banner efficiently took readings of his physical state, disregarding the now-watchful Alpha paying rapt attention to his every move. 

“Captain, I’m going to have to sedate you again,” Banner said, immediately jumping in to placating a deeply unhappy Bucky. “Sergeant, it’s necessary to reduce the strain on his body.” 

Turning back to Steve, he continued, “The bond sickness is still trying to drag you down physically, and sleep is the best remedy, especially with the aid of your enhanced metabolism. I’m already seeing vast improvement, especially neurologically, but you’ll be achy and tired to say the least. I’d like to have you sleep through repairing the worst of the damage.” 

Bucky had been sub-vocally growling at the first mention of sedation, so Steve poked him in the side, relishing the yelp and dirty look he got for it. 

“Stop it, Buck. You know it’s a good idea. I’d like some answers first, though.” 

Clutching Steve a little closer, Bucky said gruffly, “Still don’t like it. I just got you back, punk.” 

“Jerk,” Steve sniffled back, trying his hardest to keep his composure. He wouldn‘t want to set Bucky off again, after all. 

Reining his emotions in tightly, he addressed his Alpha sternly. “So?” 

“So what?” was Bucky’s oh so clever reply. His amused and faux innocent expression said that he knew just what Steve was driving at, but he wasn’t going to give in. 

“Buck! How are you here?” Steve bit off each word. Bucky would only be this evasive over such an important issue if the answer was upsetting. 

Expression blanking in a way Steve was far too familiar with during missions, Bucky just said, “Go to sleep, Stevie. Rest up and heal up, then we’ll talk.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Bucky, who only said, “My hand to God, Steve. I just want you to feel better. And don’t give me any lip; I can feel how woozy you still are.”

Steve took a deep breath, feeling all the aches piling back up now that the adrenaline of their reunion was fading. He wanted to stubbornly stick to his guns and demand they talk about it now, but he also knew Bucky wasn’t going to budge. He nodded, and Dr. Banner, who had been hovering at the edge of the medical portion of the room to give the mates space, came over instantly to push a syringe of sedative in one of the many ports in Steve’s body. 

Steve felt the cool rush of the drug pulling at his conscious. He had a sudden terrifying thought and gripped Bucky’s shirt tightly. 

“Don’t leave, Buck, okay? Don’t leave me again.” 

He barely heard Bucky’s answering, “Never, Steve. I’ll be here.” before he was out for the count. 

Seeing, and feeling, Steve fall into a much-needed sleep gave Bucky the chance to finally take a deep breath. He felt so much lighter now that the bond wasn’t screaming at him, but he also felt a heavy sense of dread at the upcoming conversation with Steve. 

“Sergeant?” Banner asked, pulling his attention. 

“Yeah, doc?” 

“Perhaps you and the Captain would be more comfortable if he was lying flat on the table? You can sit in this chair and still keep contact with him, but you’ll both be more comfortable.” 

That made sense. Bucky nodded and, with Banner’s help, shifted Steve’s bulk off his lap and into a more comfortable position on the examination table. 

Bucky then practically collapsed into the chair he’d been bonding with earlier while waiting for Steve to wake up. God, he was exhausted. 

It must have shown, because Banner said, “If you’d like, I can put you under as well. I know you’d probably like to remain on guard, but your bond will recover faster if you’re both well-rested.” 

He smiled, a bit of wry sadness twisting his features. “I’ll make sure you’re both safe.” 

He thought about it. Banner was correct in that he’d prefer to keep on watch while Steve was out, but there was also logic in resting at the same time, since he knew Steve would wake firing on all cylinders. And he was just so tired from the past weeks. If Banner was promising to take the watch, he felt like they might be okay. 

“Yeah, that might be a good idea. Thanks, doc.” 

Bucky got comfortable in the chair, making sure he stayed as close to Steve as possible. Banner came over with another syringe and quickly and efficiently administered the sedative. 

The seductive pull of the drugs whisked Bucky straight away. He gave in to the exhaustion and stress and gladly went under. 

Unfortunately, the sedation and lack of alarm from the now unblocked bond had an unintended effect and only Bruce Banner was witness to the other personality taking control of Bucky Barnes’ body. 

“ожидание заказов. готовы соблюдать.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google Russian says:  
> "Awaiting orders. Ready to comply."


End file.
